


brutus!

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Murder, Prophets, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: Tyler would protect them on Judgment Day. Tyler would tell them the truth. Tyler would live as a god. Only Tyler. Always Tyler.





	brutus!

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the buttress song of the same name

Josh had never been the jealous type. If anything, he was the polar opposite: a sacrificial angel. A follower. A friend.

“You’re a lifter,” his mother had always told him. “When you love people, you lift them up, no matter how bad things get.”

Josh took that as a compliment. He was a lifter.

Tyler needed some lifting.

Tyler was also a prophet, and a dreamer, and a force of nature. God’s mouthpiece. Josh looked at him and saw the sun. Hell, he saw the entire goddamn Milky Way - all those stars and moons and planets packed into seventy inches of otherworldly defiance. Josh loved him, but above all, Josh believed him.

“I believe you,” he whined against Tyler’s neck, stomach trembling, while the messiah himself laughed and curled his fingers tighter around Josh’s cock.

“It’s nice to be believed.”

Tyler needed lifting because most people weren’t overly fond of him. They knew him as a delusional fraud, a heretic bastard with too much time on his hands. A cult leader.

Tyler didn’t run a cult. Tyler didn’t brainwash people. He showed them the truth. That was all. Just the truth.

Josh had been shown the truth.

“I believe you.” More whining, more trembling, more stroking. “I believe- _fuck."_

Josh wasn’t the jealous type. Truly, he wasn’t. Envy was a sin. But now and again he would watch townspeople fall weeping into Tyler’s arms, crying out for salvation, and while he watched he felt something parasitic start to blister between his ribs. And Tyler would stroke their hair, and tell them exactly what they wanted to hear, and the parasite would burn brighter.

It wasn’t the contact that bothered him, really. It was the fact that they had gone to Tyler in the first place. Sought him out. Worshipped him. It must be nice, Josh thought - to be worshipped.

Not that he wanted people knocking down his door in search of wisdom or comfort or whatever else was in short supply. It would just be nice to get some credit. Because Josh had been the very first. The original apostle. Advocate from day one. He was the cornerstone of a movement that had grown so much bigger than himself. But never bigger than Tyler.

Nothing was bigger than Tyler.

Maybe that’s what Josh wanted: to be larger than life. Someone important. Someone with answers.

_Why_ _should_ _Tyler_ _get_ _all_ _the_ _answers?_ _It’s_ _not_ _fair_. _Give_ _me_ _a_ _purpose_ , _dammit_.

Sure, it was probably terrifying to have God crack open your brain and speak to you, _really_ speak to you, but Josh wanted that terror more than anything. He wanted to share the burden.

“D’you ever wish,” he mumbled into Tyler’s shoulder one night, “that you weren’t the only one?”

Patient fingers combed their way through the wispy darkness of Josh's curls. "There can only be one savior, J. You know that.”

“Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

There could only be one.

Tyler would protect them on Judgment Day. Tyler would tell them the truth. Tyler would live as a god. Only Tyler. Always Tyler.

Josh wasn’t jealous. Envy was a sin, remember? And Josh wasn’t a sinner - at least, he tried not to be. No, he was a background character, a forgettable face, a helpless bastard in need of guidance.

“ _Help_ _me_.” Whimpered oh-so pathetic from between gritted teeth. “Tell me... tell me what to do, Tyler. _Please_."

“Get on your knees.”

Josh was a lifter, and that was a good thing, but he also wanted to be more. Blossom into something else. Something greater. But it was like Tyler had a heel pressed to his throat at all times, restricting his breathing, restricting his _growth_ , and Josh was sick of it. Sick, and tired, and resentful.

Maybe even a little angry.

Eventually he realized that it was the anger that had been blistering hot and carnal whenever he watched Tyler kiss foreheads or discuss the contents of his dreams with starry-eyed civilians. It was that same anger that drove him to take action, because it wasn’t fair. Josh deserved devotion. What right did Tyler have to lay claim to all the visions and prophecies and answers?

No right. No right at all. Which is why Josh waited until he was vulnerable - a rare occurence, but he had a weakness, and that weakness was Josh. Because only he could look on as Tyler sprawled himself across the bed, naked and satisfied with both arms folded snug behind his head.

"You're a good guy, Josh, y'know that?"

"Thanks," said Josh, tugging on his pants at the side of the bed. “I try."

At that point, Tyler’s eyes were half-lidded. Sleepy. Content. “Always believed in me."

"Who wouldn't?" Josh asked, the innocence of his voice partially muffled by the shirt being pulled over his head.

"You'd be surprised."

Josh smoothed down his unkempt curls, and chewed his lip, and said, "Can I confess something?"

The eyes opened a little more. "Of course."

"Okay." He sucked in a breath and let it go. "I feel like God is trying to tell me something, and the only thing standing in His way is you. It's always you."

And Tyler furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth, opened it to say "what do you mean?" but Josh was faster. He'd always been faster.

He stabbed Tyler before the cum on his stomach had a chance to dry.

Not only was Josh fast, but he was a lifter, too. That's why he lifted Tyler's body all the way to a modest little grave in the middle of nowhere.

And he waited for God to speak to him.


End file.
